


Reckoning

by anastiel



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Mild Gore, Other, Seizures, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham begins to remember what Hannibal Lecter did to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckoning

The first week in the cold, barren prison cell is excruciating. You spend the first few days, lying on the bumpy mattress, arms crossed behind your head, desperately trying to remember something. Anything that could put your mind to rest, to find some evidence that would convince your frazzled mind and everyone else that Hannibal Lecter is the devil.

At first you remember nothing, only fragmented flashes of things that might have happened, no concrete recollections that could hold any merit. You begin to pace. Back and forth across the small cell, hands clasped behind your back, eyes closed.

_Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn. Repeat._

Jack comes to visit and you completely ignore him. Constantly pacing and thinking, willing your mind to work correctly, to remember. You have to remember! He attempts to talk to you multiple times, but the only responses you give him are non-committal grunts. Thankfully, he leaves you in peace after about fifteen minutes of nothing but silence except for the scuffing of your shoes against the hard floor.

_Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, turn. Repeat._

It is late in the evening when you start to remember. The first memories return in flashbacks. Scattered dreams of a darkened human face, hidden behind the facade of a stag's head. The creature never speaks to you, but he follows you, silently, always remaining in your peripheral vision. Sometimes you follow him, hoping that he will explain through a sign what he wants of you, but he never does. The stag is gigantic and powerful, obvious by the way he moves and walks, holding himself with a sort of arrogance. However, the mysterious man-deer disappears as quickly as he came, vanishing from your vision. Reappearing and appearing whenever he desires, but never staying for too long. If he visits you while you are sleeping, when you awaken you are sometimes far away from your warm bed, standing bare-footed in the middle of a snowy field wearing nothing but your underwear and a thin t-shirt.

The memories of your past vivid dreams and hallucinations change into real events. The important details you need to know, but were erased due to dissociation. You remember hands, male hands and a familiar face; the same face carved into the stag. He is unfeeling, driven to complete a mission. He pushes a tube way too large into your mouth and down your throat. You scream but the sounds do not travel far, you flail your hands, reaching up to grasp the tube and pull it out of your throat. He grabs your wrists, pinning them down to the armrests of the chair and tying a thin cord around them to keep you still. Everything gets a bit hazy after that.

In the next memory the tube is gone, replaced by the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. You are lying in bed and it appears to be early morning. It still feels like there is something caught in your throat, something huge that shouldn’t even be able to fit there in the first place. You cough excessively and the chunk starts to move up your throat. Rising from the bed, you run down the hall into the kitchen, and heave the chunk lodged in your throat into the sink. You stagger back from the sink in horror as you realize what the thing is. It’s a human ear. A cut off human ear that Hannibal stuffed down your throat. Bile rises up in your throat and your feet rush you into the bathroom. Your face meets the porcelain toilet, hands gripping the cold surface as you retch into the bowl multiple times. Another wave of nausea washes through your body and you dry heave into the toilet. Shakily rising to your feet, you lean against the wall, your head reeling in shock.

A few hours later you learn the ear was Abigail Hobbs’ and you have to take another trip to the bathroom to release the contents of your stomach. The next day you are convicted of killing Abigail Hobbs and wrongfully gain the title of the Chesapeake Ripper. At the time you were unsure of your identity, after all large chunks of your memory were missing. You could have committed these murders and not remembered, except your conscious constantly reminds you of your innocence. Yet, you still have doubt. The devil lurking in the shadows of your mind, warping and twisting your thoughts and feelings.

The devil is guilty of these crimes, not you.

A few days later, the memory of the seizures return. Chilton’s unorthodox psychological practices at delving into one’s mind, by way of sodium amytal cause the jog in your memory. At first there’s nothing, just Chilton’s mumbled questions, drowned out by the ceiling lights flashing erratically above your head. Then it all comes back. Hannibal sticking a needle in your arm, asking you to draw him a clock. Such a simple thing to do, drawing a clock, but for some reason you cannot focus. Hannibal hands you a notepad and a pencil. You draw him a clock. It looks perfectly fine to you, but when you glance over at it again, it is disfigured, all of the numbers fixated on one side of the oddly shaped oval. Your head starts to spin, sweat drips down your forehead and your entire body begins to shake violently. You grip the arms of the chair so tight your hands turn white. Hannibal is sitting directly across from you calm as a placid lake, talking in soft tones, attempting to comfort you. It’s not working. His face begins to contort into swirls, his eyes going where his ear should be and mouth moving to the left side of his face. His grotesque face is the last thing you see before your eyes roll back in your head and everything goes black.

When you come to Hannibal is now Chilton, staring at you with raised eyebrows, waiting for the verdict. You tell him all that you realized, that Hannibal has been inducing your seizures all along and these seizures were the cause of your dissociation. He doesn’t say much in response, merely nods and leaves you to be returned to the confines of your cell.

The metal-barred doors clang shut, and footsteps echo away from you across the concrete floor, leaving you alone in the dim light of the cell. Once your jailkeeper is gone, your rise from your seat on the uncomfortable mattress and step over to the bars. You wrap your hands around them, clinging to them like how you are clinging to your memories; for dear life. A rush of anger starts in your belly and rises, hot to your head. You slam your fist against the metal, fury raging in your veins. Hannibal tried to take your life away from you and he will not get away with it.

**There will be a reckoning.**


End file.
